


The Grass is Greener

by JustAnotherGhostwriter



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/pseuds/JustAnotherGhostwriter
Summary: Aximili arrives home from the planet Earth, and is immediately requested to report to the Andalite Council for what they call a trial, and what he knows is postulating at best. While awaiting his moment with them, he reflects on a number of things in his past, present and expected future.





	The Grass is Greener

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silveryfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silveryfeather/gifts).



> My prompts for this awesome fic exchange included Ax and Estrid, and I just couldn't resist being super Feelsy TM for my second published _Animorphs_ fic in over two years. See, this is what happens when wannabe writers are allowed to go on hiatus: they get pretentious ;P In either case, Feli, I hope you enjoy this gift. Thank you for organising this exchange!

The grass tasted strange. 

 

Aximili  walked around the enclosure restlessly, tasting different patches as he went, hoping to find a spot where the lush grass of his homeworld tasted as  familiar and comforting and good and right as it always had in his memories. Perhaps the containment measures of the dome had a slightly negative effect on the grass inside, making it largely artificial. Perhaps having intimate knowledge of more advanced tastebuds was distorting how the grass tasted to his muted Andalite senses.  Perhaps nostalgia had twisted his memory enough that this was the outcome. 

 

He was worried that the real answer was much simpler and much more damning: that he’d grown accustomed to the way Earth grass tasted, and that he  _missed_ it. 

 

All he had to do was ask, and more than a handful of Andalites would  _jump_ at the opportunity to have Earth grass flown in for him. If people thought anything of his sudden odd diet, they’d keep their thoughts to themselves. The People, as a collective, adored him and would allow him any eccentricities he so desired.  Perhaps they even expected oddities of him, the little brother of a hero’s legacy who had been there for the fall of the Yeerk empire on a nothing-planet, who had opened trade and friendships to said planet, who was bringing stories and snippets of culture and a victory like no other in history back to their planet with him. At his request, the other three had lied about Elfangor breaking Seerow’s Kindness in the trials held on earth, sticking instead to the story that Lirem had forced Aximili to accept what seemed like a lifetime ago. It would make no difference to the humans which Andalite handed over the technology; their concern was what the technology had allowed the Animorphs to do and not do. And Aximili would remain a hero in the People’s eyes, forgiven of his reckless disobedience because of the outcome that it had achieved. 

 

He knew, therefore, that his  secret trial before the Council for was  simply to assuage their worries; to reassure those few who knew the truth that he was still uncorrupted, still honourable despite the many times he had thrown his allegiance in with Earth, to the point that his rank title included being the planet’s liaison. This trial would be nothing like the one his human companions had faced on earth; the Andalites did not care how many humans or Yeerks or Hork-Bajir or Taxxon he had killed. The concept of a war crime to a race of warriors was incredibly rarely visited, especially when the end so  _clearly_ justified the means. Alloran was not as lucky – had not been dismissed as easily as Aximili had been on  Earth, and was clearly not being allowed respite by his own people, if the fact that his trial was running notably overtime said anything about the situation.  Aximili wondered what life Alloran was destined to face here once he was finally allowed to escape the Council’s ire. Would they enforce consequences on the Abomination? Would his wife welcome him home? Would the People discard him, even as they flocked eagerly to Aximili’s side? 

 

It was childish and dishonourable of him, but he did not want to rush into finding the answers to those questions, which meant that he was content to stay in the holding dome, awaiting his trial, even though the grass no longer tasted like home. 

 

The sound of an approaching Andalite made Aximili turn so all four eyes could land on the newcomer, but instead of one of the Council workers finally coming to escort him to his trial, he found Estrid. She paused when they lock eyes, and something awkward and uncertain descended like a thunderclap, attempting and failing to span the years and experiences that have passed since they last said goodbye. 

 

<Prince Aximili,> she greeted politely. 

 

He finally understood, just a little, why Jake had tried to dissuade him using that title. And the knowledge, much like everything else he’d learned over the past three Earth years, hurt acutely. 

 

<Estrid,> he answered, just as politely. <I wasn’t... I didn’t expect to see you here.>

 

<I was escorted to this holding dome to await my trial. They told me the two before mine had not yet concluded.> She was carefully not looking at him with any of her eyes as she reported. 

 

Aximili found himself stiffening. <Your trial? For what?> What had she gotten up to since leaving Earth? Had she developed another virus; dropped it on another, more defenceless planet? He’d been under the impression Estrid would return to the homeworld, be rebuked mostly in quiet or, at worst, made an example of to dissuade any other females with impractical ideas of spiriting off into the warzones. 

 

<The Council,> Estrid said slowly, hesitating and flickering one stalk eye briefly to where the viewing panels were, behind which Andalite guards would be watching and listening to them. Ensuring those about to be put on trial would not escape or worse. <The Council was... busy with more pressing matters when our party returned to the homeworld after our... failed and... unauthorised mission. They have the time to question us, now.>

 

In other words, they’d pretended like one of their number hadn’t ordered a secret group to drop a bioweapon on Earth, until the sudden treaty with the planet forced them to address the issue. Aximili wasn’t surprised, as such, but the emotion that rolled into him at her explanation was still unpleasant. 

 

<I understand,> he said, and meant it more than many others would assume. 

 

<Yes,> Estrid said, very quietly, all four eyes suddenly on him. <I suspect you do.>

 

In the sudden loaded pause, Aximili heard the coming of her questions. The same ones he’d been asked over and over – the same excited, proud desire to hear about his battles and his victories, the way the Yeerks had looked when they died – but that would be made somehow worse coming from her. So he hastily interjected, delaying the moment he would have to talk about things that Estrid understood a little more than most, like a coward closing their eyes to the sight of the sunrise so as to deny the day a little longer. 

 

<I would like to speak of all that has happened to you since we parted once I have been given my orders by the Council. Some things may need to be kept secret, at their discretion.>

 

Estrid’s look was sharp and Aximili realised, bizarrely, that Andalites did not frown as humans did. And that his expectation to see her forehead draw together would not be met; and that it would look disturbing if she did draw her forehead together; and that he remembered frowning more than once on the journey back home. He felt suddenly stupified, too surprised and embarrassed and unsure to remember how awkward seeing Estrid had first made him feel. Estrid flicked her tailblade, just slightly, and her stalkeyes moved from him. 

 

<Of course, Prince Aximili,> she said, tone carefully neutral. How many times had he dreamed of earning that title when he was younger? How many times had he even allowed himself to imagine a beautiful female calling him by said title, standing alone with him with eager expectation to hear the stories of his battles? If those fantasies had been what had brought him to this point, he wished for the Time Matrix to go and undo them all. <I was...> Estrid hesitated, but when she saw his attention on her again, she moved to a resting battle stance and continued. <I was hoping to find you as soon as my trial was over. I... I took something from Earth, when I left, and you... are the only other one with the means to enjoy it.>

 

Aximili felt his hearts lurch as he watched her place her hand into the woven bag she carried with her, a hundred possibilities racing through his mind. All of them were much worse than reality: Estrid produced a rather large bag of familiar, big sweets. 

 

<Jawbreakers,> he said, a little in wonder. 

 

Estrid’s face was one of sudden horror. <I thought they were food,> she said, insistently. 

 

<They are. They are a type of candy – the nicest tasting human food.>

 

<But they are named... like weapons?>

 

He smiled at her with his eyes. <Yes. I have not heard of anybody who  _really_ broke their jaw, though. Hyperbole, for the sake of... excitement, I believe.>

 

Estrid thought about this for a moment, then dismissed it with a flick of her tailblade. Aximili couldn’t tell if he was relieved she wouldn’t press the issue, or if he wished she would so he would be forced to talking about human culture and their odd little habit of calling things they enjoyed by terms that also indicated harmful or undesirable things. <Would you... I was not told not to morph.> Of course not; to morph to escape trial would be an act so dishonourable it barely passed through the minds of the Council. <Would you like some now, as we wait?>

 

Her last thoughtspeak was louder, attempting to alert those watching that they meant no harm. When no voices ordered them not to morph, Estrid and Aximili both began to change in wordless agreement. He’d forgotten that his human form found her human form pleasing to look at. And he wondered, for a moment, if they should not try to honour human culture by finding clothes to cover them. But he dismissed that thought; it was unnecessary, as no other humans would be around to be offended by their lack of external covering. So they simply sat, side-by-side and naked, on the soft Andalite grass, each taking a jawbreaker and attempting to shove it into their mouths. The taste sent tingles of pleasure down Aximili’s spine, but his heart grew heavier and heavier the longer he sat there and slurped on the candy. Estrid tried to talk to him, every now and then, but her words were indistinguishable around the candy and her desire to play with the mouth sounds the humans could produce, and she did not seem to want to simply relegate to thought-speak. He watched her delighted as she held the candy in one hand and played with the ‘sh’ sound with laughing eyes and shaking human shoulders, and he felt a grief for a boy named Ax. 

 

<Prince Aximili.> The Andalite entering the dome greeted him politely. <The Council is ready for you.>

 

“Finish this for me, please,” he said aloud to Estrid, handing her the diminished, sticky candy, which she took happily. 

 

Estrid turned to him as he leaned in close, and he remembered their last encounter in human forms. She tasted sticky and sweet and it burned like acid. But he was glad he’d done it, because he knew, even as he moved toward the waiting Andalite, that this would be the last time he’d allow himself to morph human. He did not demorph until he was beside the little pond of water in the dome, so he could look down and stare at his reflection. His friends looked back; neatly cut into pieces and formed into something that he’d given breath and life to. A truthful lie. He made sure he watched as each one of them disappeared when he morphed back to Andalite, acknowledging his choices as they slipped away from him. Not his choices to stay with them – those he had internalised long ago. But his choices to leave. To never once try to find where Tobias had flown off to, after Rachel’s funeral. To help dump Jake into an ocean. To walk aboard a spaceship without a personal goodbye, leaving the liaisons to tell Marco, Cassie and Jake that he was leaving, and very probably never coming back. 

 

He stared for a long moment at the reflection of his Andalite face. 

 

<Prince Aximili?> the Andalite prompted, sounding a little unsure. 

 

_Come on, Ax-man. Let’s do it._

 

<Apologies. Please lead the way.>

 

He looked back at Estrid with one stalk eye as he left, watched her too enthralled with the problem of eating two giant sweets to really watch him go. And, as he left, he repeated to himself what he’d secretly whispered since his ride home had first left Earth’s atmosphere. _I_ _have made right everything that can be made right, I have learned everything that can be learned, I have sworn not to repeat my error, and now I claim forgiveness._


End file.
